From Child to Animatronic
by BayRad
Summary: This story is the prequel to the successful game 'Five Nights at Freddy's,' before Mike Schmidt takes the role of security guard. The story takes perspective of a spirit trapped within a Freddy Fazbear animatronic. The spirit vies for freedom, and makes many attempts of escape, only to realize that he's not the only prisoner within the cemented walls of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.
1. Chapter 1

Over twenty years.

240 months. 1,043 weeks. 7,304 days. 175,316 hours.

Counting down to the ongoing present time, I remain trapped in this makeshift prison, looking onward from the stage I stand on for most of my entombed life. My limbs are an unwanted invitation to spots of rust, built-up grime, and various questionable fluids now caked and solidified. They are one of the very few things that have been stuck with me all these years, another being this fake microphone that's embedded in my right hand. My prison creaks with age, given very little sympathy by the owner's ignorance. It moves with a jittery and abrupt action with just enough maintenance to barely stand on its own two legs throughout the slow, miserable, tedious days. My eyes glow bright, reflecting the spotlight whenever it shines upon me.

I always welcome that spotlight, for it successfully obstructs my view from forcefully staring at the snot-nosed brats. They come in various forms, but they all act the same once they set foot in this hell hole: sprinting giddily inside screaming for joy, dragging their unenthusiastic parents along as they find a wooden, splintered chair to sit on, chatting with the other little drooling kids that are with them. They wait restlessly for their pizza to arrive, while the parents either engage in small talk to each other, or become too occupied with their own personal devices to become chatterboxes who evolve to being just as obnoxious as the kids. They show no manners once their pizza arrives hot on the plate. They mercilessly dig into the cheesy mess, chomping away with their mouths wide open, snot running down their faces. The very thought of those little monsters make me want to mercilessly dig into their rib cage.

Despite the annoyance of the spoiled brats, it's not the worst part of the day. There is something far worse than having to look at these disgusting little shits. It's not that I have to repeat the same words I spew out with a permanent smile since the day I've been trapped in here, it's not the repeated conversations I have with the other poor, trapped prisoners by my sides. No, it's... the __singing__. Every ten minutes of every day, I am forced to sing the same songs over, and over, and over, and OVER, and OVER, AND OVER, AND FUCKING OVER! For over twenty years, I have sung the same awful, cringe-worthy songs, and it makes me want to tear my fucking face off! Not to say I haven't tried that, though.

But I'm not the only prisoner here, as what I've stated before. Turns out that there are three other prisoners trapped in this establishment as well. Not only that, but they're also caged in a humiliating way: suits that represent animals that appeal to every kid that comes here, and named embarrassingly so. There's one trapped in a bunny suit named Bonnie, one in a chicken suit named Chica, and one in a fox suit named Foxy. I don't see Foxy as much anymore.

And then there's me, trapped in a bear suit named Freddy Fazbear, who is apparently the main mascot of this god-forsaken place.

We don't communicate, the other prisoners and I. We don't have the capabilities to speak any words, other than the lines our suits force us to say. No matter how hard we try, we can never find a way to talk to each other. We're stuck in repetitive speeches and never-ending torture of appealing to the little gremlins.

At least, until night falls.

The other prisoners and I, who I've come to realize that we're all animatronics, are given the false sense of freedom of being able to roam freely throughout the building. It's not much, but at least I'm allowed to move on my own. I've always wanted more than just being able to roam inside the building. I want to get away from this place, never see it again for as long as my tortured afterlife can take it, with or without the others. But there's one thing standing between me and my true freedom: the security guard.

The guard is always different every time. Whether they be male, female, or whatever, their job is always the same; preventing us from leaving. Some last for a couple of weeks, while others last for only a day, depending on their courage and foolishness. They would sit comfortably in that sealed-off room, watching us from surveillance from the safety of that room as Bonnie, Chica, and I wandered about. That room has the switch to unlock and unseal the only entrance, which is also the only exit. And trust me, I've looked everywhere, but the entire building is hardened with an exterior of cement. And I've tried to break the metal doors and windows down that lead to the security room, but the entire place is sealed tight, almost as if the owner was expecting it. Once the clock stuck 6:00 A.M., the free-roam is automatically switched off, and all animatronics are sent back into their original positions. The guards collect their earnings, and go on their way, either quitting or continuing the shift.

This went on for a decade and a half until recently that the building was now slowly degrading to a rundown status, barely kept at average maintenance. The owner started to become greedy and cheap as the years creep closer to the time of the present, so he started cutting some budgets around the place. The food became less than what was expected, the floors would creak with each step, and the animatronics were now collecting rust. Multiple complaints were filed, claiming that the food made children sick, or that the animatronics gave off a gagging odor when close enough. I wouldn't blame them about the odor; every time my jittery joints move, I can slightly hear squashing noises within the suit, which begs the question of what it is. And ever since the Bite of 1987 – as what these people are calling it now – Foxy's area, Pirates Cove, has been shut down for good. The owner and mechanic say it must have been some technical malfunction, but I can tell, at least from the owner, that it wasn't an accident. I haven't seen Foxy since that day. Maybe he was permanently shut down, or isn't allowed to free-roam anymore, who knows. I didn't really care what happened to any of the other prisoners at that time, I only desired and obsessed over my freedom.

However, none of those budget cuts mattered to me, except for one that I happened to eavesdrop during one of the closing sessions a couple of years back. A couple of people who worked there were gossiping about the budget cuts, a conversation that has been brought up multiple times ever since the cuts started, but one of the workers brought something up that caught my absolute interest.

"Did you hear about the boss making more budget cuts in this shit hole?" one of the workers asked as he was wiping the tables. He was a short, stout man who looked in his early twenties. He looked recognizable, as he is both a mechanic and a dishwasher boy for this place.

The other worker, a tall woman who looked in her early thirties, was sweeping the floor when the stout man asked the question. She snorted, obviously annoyed about the subject, "What else could he cut? This place is barely running as it is!"

The stout man pointed up, indicating the lights above them, "Well apparently he's going to cut back on the electricity in this place, make it so that all the lights, cameras, doors, animatronics, etc. are connected to one source. Once that source is drained, everything shuts down, even the doors to the security room." he shakes his head.

"That's pretty specific, mentioning the doors to the security room," the tall woman muttered.

The stout man shrugged, "I knew nothing about it until the owner told me. He acted a bit nervous when talking about the doors. I wonder what his deal was. Probably was nervous about losing money to keep the doors shut or something," the stout man shakes his head, "it doesn't matter, anyways. As soon as I get my paycheck for this week, I'm outta here."

"Might as well," said the tall woman, "I heard he's going to cut the minimum wage by half for next week."

"You serious!?"

"It's what I heard, but I'm not gonna take the chance."

The stout man laughed, the kind of laugh that gives you the instinct to rip one's throat out, "Yea, you'd have to be desperate to want a job here with that pay!"

After the two workers finished their cleaning duties, they shut off the lights for the day, closed and locked the entrance before they went on their merry little way. It was only 11:00PM, and the free-roam switch doesn't turn on until midnight, the time the security guard arrives, so I had no choice but to stand in the darkness with the rest of these animatronic prisoners.

This was it. Over twenty years of being stuck in this mechanical suit, forced to bear the face of a permanent smile. Over twenty years of singing along the same monotonous and wretched songs, communicating with these "band members" of mine with repetitive lines that are etched and seared into my head with a humiliating ability to memorize every word. I've waited ever so patiently for the right moment, and this is it. I can finally be rid of this broken down establishment, and be truly free, away from here as far as this suit can take me. All I have to do is let the power run out before my free-roam switches off at 6:00AM, and I can hit that entrance button! I was so excited and eager, I could have sworn I felt my mechanical limbs shaking!

My glassy eyes remained stationary at the Freddy Fazbear clock located across the room from me, staring at each tick the minute-hand makes. 11:01 P.M... 11:02 P.M... 11:03 P.M... I could start to really feel my mechanical limbs vibrating with eagerness. 11:04 P.M... 11:05 P.M... 11:06 P.M... I was now focusing on the second-hand, staring as it hits each tick mark. 11:07 P.M... 11:08 P.M... 11:09 P.M...

By the time it got to 11:55 P.M., I could hear the entrance door unlocking, followed by the sound of a ringing bell, which is heard whenever the entrance is opened. This was no doubt the work of the guard, setting up for his shift. I could hear the shuffling of feet, then the opening of the security door, and it wasn't long before I heard the individual cameras scan the area, making whirring noises as it overlooks each area.

11:56 P.M... 11:57 P.M...

I slowly rotated my jittery head towards the hallway leading to the security room.

11:58 P.M... 11:59 P.M...

I could hear the animatronic prisoners beside me rattle.

Midnight. Free-roam is now on. My limbs are now to my use.


	2. Chapter 2

I quickly rushed off the stage, moving as fast as these animatronic legs can possibly go, trying my best not to stumble and trip over the three-step stairs leading off the stage. I awkwardly shuffled through the abundance of chairs and tables in the dining hall, like an obstacle course in gym class. Moving too quickly, I've managed to get my right foot under one of the table legs, causing me to trip and fall to my knees. If I was able to curse under my breath, I would. I pushed myself back up, hearing the rusted screeches of the suit's mechanical limbs grind together as I bend myself back into an upright position. After that little clumsy episode, I immediately made my way towards the security office. I was expecting myself to catch the security guard by surprise, and hit that freedom button, where I would finally have the chance to escape from this wretched place. I scuttled out of the dining hall, and into the east hallway, hopefully ready to make one final pushed effort. However, just before I took my first step into the east hallway, I heard a loud clanking noise at the end of the hall. I froze in place, almost certain I heard a similar noise from earlier this day, and every time before. Confused, I slowly walked towards the source of the noise, and found the metal door leading to the security room, closed shut. Following the closing of the metal door, the light in the east hallway flickered on, illuminating my presence.

I peeked through the glass window showing the interior of the office, and I was faced with quite a sight. The security guard was staring right back at me, with a look of boundless fear. He was grasping a phone with his right white-knuckled hand, his mouth speaking into it. I pressed my hands against the window, gazing upon the horrified look the guard gives me every once in a while, focusing on both the phone and I. It didn't take long before the guard hung the phone up, and focused his attention at the door parallel to the one I'm at, occasionally looking at a monitor from time to time. I assume he wouldn't be opening the door for me anytime soon.

Just when I was about to turn around and leave, the security guard scurried to the door parallel to me, and switched on the flickering light on the west hall. And to both the guard and I's surprise, Bonnie was a couple of feet from the door, ready to enter the archway. Almost like it was in slow motion, the security guard flew off of his chair, and made a quick dive at the door button. Right when Bonnie's left hand was just through the doorway, the door slammed shut, giving the purple bunny barely enough time to yank the hand out. Once the guard got control of his bearings, he pressed the light switch to see if Bonnie was still there. Evidently enough, she was not. The guard sighed in relief, only it ended abruptly when he noticed that I was still present at the window, and moved his gaze to the monitor once more. With nothing more happening, I scuttled back to the dining hall in temporary defeat.

__"Obtaining my true freedom is going to be a lot trickier than I thought..." __I thought to myself as I entered the dining hall once more. It didn't take long before I noticed something strange about the area. Weren't there a bunch of chairs knocked over, thanks to my doing? I stopped in the middle of the dining hall, and looked around me, tilting my giant of a head in confusion. All the chairs that I seemed to have knocked over, all the tables that have shifted and slightly turned from me bumping into them, all of it appeared to have somehow move back into their original positions. It was almost as if I never barraged my way through them. Out of the twenty-plus years I've been here, I haven't seen anything like this before.

I faced myself towards the stage, seeing Bonnie and Chica remaining stationary upon the elevated platform, appearing as if they haven't moved an inch. It was impossible, though, since I saw Bonnie at the west hall doorway with my own two mechanical eyes! So why are they back on the stage?

"_Do they not care about freedom? Have they given up already?" _I thought to myself some more,_ "Or are they too brain-dead to understand the meaning of an opportunity?"_

Right when I finished that thought, the two animatronics immediately shifted their heads to lock eyes with mine. I almost lost my footing when I took a step back in surprise. These suits are insultingly clunky.

_"Freddy called us brain-dead,"_ an unknown female voice formed in my mind, _"should we take offense to that?"_

_"That's not Freddy,"_ another female voice chimed in within my mind, _"but there's no point. It wouldn't solve our problem."_

I looked around the room with nervousness resting upon my soul, wondering where the two voices came from, _"Who said that?" _I thought, relying on my thinking to find out who's here with me, as much of a stretch that was.

When I turned back to face the stage, Bonnie was just a few inches away from my face. I jumped back, startled by the sudden presence of the purple rabbit. Bonnie lifted up her right index finger, _"I did," _the second female voice echoed within my sub-conscious, _"and so did Chica, or at least, the soul trapped within Chica."_

I attempted to speak aloud, but ended up using the voice module within the Freddy suit, "Welcome to Freddy Frazbear's Pizza!" Freddy's voice module blurted out. I frantically covered my gaping hole of a mouth until the authentic voice finished its pre-recorded speech, feeling a sense of embarrassment deep within my soul.

Bonnie placed her right hand over her eyes and shook her head, then proceeds to disappear in the blink of an eye. I looked around until I saw Bonnie over at one of the corners of the dining hall, _"Well, there goes the element of surprise. Not that you storming off to the office right away helped us one bit,"_ the second voice – in which I learned was Bonnie's – berated me, _"and also not to mention you screwing up my attempt at getting the guard."_

I rotated my head to where Bonnie was standing in front of me, then back to her, _"How did you do that?"_ I tilted my head once again, ignoring the insults thrown at me, _"How did you... ya know, moved so quickly? It was almost instantaneously!"_

Bonnie rotated her head at the stage, eyeing at the camera stationed there, _"First off, get over here. You're in the camera's view,"_ she scolded until I clumsily scooted over to her, _"and secondly, that's none of your business."_ she said as she placed her crusty, worn index finger on my chest.

_"Aw, no need to be rude to Mr. Fazbear, Bonnie!"_ the first voice – which I found out to be Chica's – complained, right before the animatronic Chica joined Bonnie and I in the corner. _"He was only just curious." _she chattered, placing both of her hands on my suit's shoulders from behind.

Bonnie stared at Chica with the only expression the suit could do: that stupid look of a grin, _"What excuse can you possibly make to NOT be rude to this newly murdered?" _Bonnie exclaimed, _"He blew my cover! We'll never get into that room at this rate!"_

Chica shuffled towards Bonnie, and placed her hands on Bonnie's mouth to close it shut, _"But see here, you funny bunny; the night is not yet over! We still have a chance to say hello to the hard-working guard. We just gotta be patient."_

_ "I've had thirty years of patience, Chica," _Bonnie snapped, _"And it doesn't help that this newly murdered could have maybe messed up the only chance!"_

Newly murdered? Is she referring to me, or to Chica?

Almost on cue, Bonnie rotated herself to face me, _"Of course newly murdered means you! How thick can you possibly be?" _she responded harshly, _"I doubt you even remember how you died."_

My mind became stung, wincing in pain at the words echoing within, no thanks to Bonnie. I want to say that I don't remember, that I have completely forgotten the traumatizing experience of... dying. But if I were to say I have no memory of the sort, I would be lying through my metaphorical teeth. I remember that day crystal clear, it was all coming back to me in an instant. I suddenly remembered the day I shed my last breath... a child's death, something that no living being should endure.

* * *

><p>It was a blazing hot Friday during the summer, the last weekend before I went into the second grade. As a last good-bye for the last few days of that summer, my parents decided to take me to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. I was simply ecstatic, bouncing off the walls in excitement, running to the family car while my parents smiled as they calmly walked towards the rickety van. I guess you could say I was just like every other kid that I see walk into Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.<p>

After a short drive, my parents parked into the seemingly overcrowded parking lot, extremely lucky to find a spot within the cesspool of cars, trucks, and the occasional bicycle. I hopped out of the car, and made my way inside the building as I could faintly hear my parents calling out my name and telling me not to go too far without them. When I entered Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, I was greeted with an awfully happy female worker, whose job was to stamp a random symbol as a way of keeping tabs on the kids, for when they get lost.

"Why hello there! Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza! What stamp would you like: Freddy Fazbear himself, Chica the chicken, Bonnie the bunny, or Foxy-" the female worker arches her index finger to make it in the shape of a hook while closing one eye, "-the pirate fox of the legendary Pirate Cove, ARRR!"

While I would expect the parents to simply smile at the enthusiasm, I was absolutely enthralled by her performance, giggling like an idiot. But despite her wonderful impression of a pirate, I chose Freddy, my favorite mascot. The female worker stamped the back of my hand, revealing to be a brown-colored stamp showing Freddy's head, and let's me go ahead to the dining hall.

I had a blast there that day. Sitting with my friends, enjoying a nice, hot slice of Freddy's four-cheese pizza, sipping their wondrous root beer float, visiting Foxy at Pirate Cove, singing along with the animatronics during showtime... It was the best final day of that summer. Who would've thought that it would turn out to be my final day period.

I was walking back to my table from Pirate Cove when I saw something enter the door to the backstage off the corner of my left eye. For a second, I thought it was Freddy Fazbear, but when I looked over to the stage, he was right with the other two animatronics, interacting with one another and laughing. I looked back at the backstage door, almost certain I saw Freddy. I looked around at the other kids, and they didn't seem to notice the figure I saw, either too busy eating their food, or interacting with the animatronics. Could it be that there's another super secret Freddy no one knows about? With my curiosity at the highest peak, I snuck towards the backstage door.

When I arrived inside the room, leaving the door ajar, I was greeted with what should have given me the instinct to leave. Inside the slightly dimly lit room were several heads of the familiar animatronics laying on shelves, with and without eyes, probably used as replacements. A large metal table sits right in the middle of the room, with an endoskeleton sitting on one of the edges, slumped over. The scent within this room gave off a weird odor, something I have never smelled before. It was like a mix of rotten milk, and iron. In front of me by only a few meters was a Freddy Fazbear head replacement, looking right at me, but with different eyes than the others. It almost looked human-like, with the pupils and the bloodshot-patterned veins. I crept closer to the Freddy head, noticing that the smell became stronger as I moved closer to it. I should have turned away and ran as fast as I could, but my curiosity was too much for a kid like me. I slowly reached for the head replacement, and picked it up. As I was holding the head, I heard a slight dripping noise that caused my ears to perk up, and something landing on my shoes. I leaned over to the right to see below me, and froze, dropping Freddy's head in the process, lightly bouncing a couple of times before stopping to the left of me.

It was blood.

I spun around to face the door, and made a run for it. But my shoes were slicked with blood, and I ended up slipping and falling on my face, just inches away from the door. I frantically tried to get myself up, but the blood made it difficult to stand on my legs, much like trying to stand on ice.

Once I've managed to balance myself on my feet, I made my attempt to swing open the door. However, before I could reach for the handle, the door quickly closed with a loud bang. I struggled with the handle, but it was stuck in place, no matter how hard I pushed or pulled on the damn thing. Even putting my entire weight on the handle proved useless. I pounded at the door, sobbing and screaming my lungs out to get someone's attention, tears, snot, and spit running down my face. I didn't care whose attention I got, I just wanted to get out of the scary room.

Just when I thought things weren't going to get any worse, I heard what sounded like the whirring and cranking of cogs and gears coming from behind me, followed by a drag, then a drooping slump upon the tile floor. My blood turned cold, spine chilling from top to bottom. I really didn't want to turn around, I just wanted to close my eyes tightly, and just imagine it was all just a nightmare, or a night terror even. But with whatever mustered up courage or foolishness I had left in me, along with the curse that is my curiosity, I slowly turned my head around to find out what became of the whirring cogs and gears.

And there, leaning against one of the legs of the large metal table, was a slumped Freddy Fazbear, but of a different palette. Instead of brown fur, he had a yellowish decay-looking fur, with a dark blue bow tie, black top hat, and a microphone in his right hand. His head is tilted to the side, with his jaw hanging wide open. The most terrifying part about this new Freddy was his minuscule glowing pupils, gazing right back at me. He continues to be motionless, doing nothing but staring in my general direction.

Right when I was going to turn back around and continue pounding and screaming at the door begging for anyone to notice my plea for help, I noticed that his left index finger was smeared in blood, a trail leading right to it. I followed the trail of the red streaks, away from the index finger, until I stopped at a small puddle, words crudely sprawled within:

"It's me!"

That was the last thing I looked at in that life.


End file.
